The Soul Which Lives On In Songs and Dreams
by maddythinks
Summary: Zinnia looks for someone she lost.Lucy dreams reality.Edmund lives to execute justice..Fate makes companions of two people of different eras. EdxOC but not MarySue.REVIEW! FIRST FANFIC! : :UPDATED!
1. Chapter 1:Prologue

**Disclaimer : I don't own any CS Lewis stuff. I would be rich then..anyway my first fanfic.. please read and review!!**

The world of Charn. To the outer eye it seemed destroyed. But the heart felt the wonders of a world forgotten—by the people and by the land itself. It heard the low hums of lost songs, melodies which started but drifted away the moment it was remembered. The sighs of winds which seemed so still, yet swirled gently around who entered. The faint echoes of all its people, animals, trees, rivers—came from the ruined streets, crumbling walls. The heart saw the happy movements of children on a festival day, laughing and playing , the anticipation of women who awaited the returns of their families from fields, the quiet smiles….It also saw the muffled cries of a broken heart, angry tears of the wronged, or the wails of those who lost…

All these feelings, thoughts existed just beyond reach. But it could be understood if willing beings gave themselves to its almost imperceptible pulls, persuasions..

It still existed. Lying in wait, for those who were willing to believe it. How similar it was to Narnia. How different it was from Narnia. It could never be resplendent, beautiful like Narnia, but its cursed beauty haunted anyone who thought about it—a wondrous city , now ruined..

Its memories roamed the cities looking for some one to liberate.. looking for redemption itself. One could sense the floating energies in the dry, harsh winds which were so characteristic of itself..

Surely something must have survived. Just something to remember it by—and it actually did. True its death couldn't be prevented.. yet life was preserved. In its deepest crevices life did survive—on its own, unknown.

It may have been cloaked by the harshest climes, dried rivers and barren lands—but it didn't destroy it.

The puddle had dried up. Entirely. Outwardly , officially the world was destroyed, bygone, forgotten, but in reality only its contact—the puddle had disappeared. As such life did exist cut off, isolated.

Even then nobody had tried to access it otherwise. After all it was the evil, despotic land from where the White Witch had come , and unleashed some of its hated qualities in Narnia. Hence the less present, the less acknowledged it was the better it was for Narnia , for any other land. That was the present stand and nothing seemed likely to change it..

Not knowing may give peace but not understanding. Ignorance is bliss—to both the knower and object of knowledge. The knower thinks it knows the best and the object escapes it attention….both coexist unacquainted with each other..

Till something happens and everything changes…

A/n : look at the big green button-- its calling you.(help!! help!!) The only way to save its life is to press it!!.. sorry for the really sad attempt at humor. :)) :p :((


	2. Chapter 2: Heat

The red sun was harsh. The temperature was exceedingly high that morning. Yet Zinnia trudged on knowing that collecting water at least today was necessary. She had after all, procrastinated as long as she could. Any more and she would have risked survival. That's all her life seemed to circle around. It was slightly better than dying anyway—which seemed to be the fate of all those around her..

Right since her childhood, her life was marked by the growing decadence, war and the predicted end. Everyone, even those who lived in it believed the land deserved it. It had committed crimes and now it must pay. Even those who were innocent and had no role to play. Somehow it centered itself around the fact that one day, one dreaded moment the land would start to rot, cut away itself from others, dying with the disease it created for itself. No one would be there to rescue it—a self created curse couldn't be outdone by another. The least it could do was to remove itself from others so that its disease wouldn't spread.

Its predicted demise came true—though more painfully than required. Continuous war had rendered half the men dead, women widowed, and children orphaned. Many starved and died. The royal families were marked by treachery, debauchery and scant concern for its people. New and vicious diseases left the people more weakened and wary of each others. The land and rivers had slowly become barren. The air was always fraught with tension—people created trivial differences and paid for it with their life.

Zinnia thought about these long, abstract processes absently—even her family had belonged to one of the families affected by it. She had belonged to a tribe which had lived along the drying river and had protected it fiercely. Needless to say one night a separate tribe, with better weapons came and attacked them. She was twelve years old then and escaped by the skin of her teeth along with her four year old brother. It had been due to the sacrifice of her mother – _she had fallen at the feet of the armed youth, intent upon destroying the family_, while the children ran away with a few supplies to a dugout. After sometime the soldiers (or something they liked to call themselves) had found them and turned them over to the richest family who in turn had made them into servants.

Thus her life had proceeded for many years as a servant. She learnt various bits of housework along with the patience of putting up with a cantankerous mistress--who thought herself to be one because her tribe had bestowed her with usurped land, material and helpless children who had no one turn to, and so were obliged to work for her.

Thus she was a witness to much of the loss and decay in the tribe itself in the usual way—how many of them died in war, how many poisoned and killed each other while the rest perished in the dreaded diseases which came in the ever increasing heat.

Eventually the only people who survived near the river were Zinnia and her brother Halo. The other survivors lived far away, in a few pockets and numbers. Some lived immediately near the Palace (or the ruins of it anyway), some others in the dry fields while the rest were either homeless or had been abandoned.

As she walked along the hard, cracked stone roads her eyes fell on the ruined embankments. She felt like one of the only remnants of that civilization, once great and prosperous. … now it consisted of just those who were the most resistant, the most alert.. or the most merciless..

Her mother had thought her to possess all these qualities. She had talked to her through many mean nights and had explained to her that the goddess of Charn had told her that her children Zinnia and Halo were to survive. To resurrect the lost glory of the land, the happiness of others.. to bring an end to the misery..

Her mother. .

_She was ten years old and it was Halo's second birthday. It was _a _big day for him—_ _his second birthday meant he had survived all those threats which plagued the newborns and infants of Charn—namely unforeseen events or incurable illnesses. _

_Now he was older, with a greater degree of resistance. He could be expected to live into adulthood._

_Both children skipped alongside their mother who was _going _to buy them presents. They happily anticipated new tunics and sweets._

_They reached the embankment where many tradesmen displayed their goods—bales of cloth, grain, weapons, toys and sometimes even jewels. Jewels were harder to come by. After all, they were in exclusive custody of the royal family and not many commoners could afford it._

_Finishing their purchases they walked back home sucking contentedly on flavored sweets._

"_So what are we going to do now, mother?" asked Zinnia excitedly._

"_Let's see" replied her mother mysteriously, with a slight smile playing around her mouth. _

"_I want to stheep.. I am vewey thired" came Halo's plaintive voice. It was true—walking all the way to the market and back had tired out the two year old._

"_Don't be a wet dishcloth. . its your birthday!!" scolded Zinnia._

"_Come now Zinnia, my baby's so tired! Well, Halo would you like to do something else?" asked Mother picking him up in her arms._

"_Nooo..onny stheep!!" cried Halo_

"_All right, all right. Now listen to my song and try to sleep" said his mother._

_She started to sing. Her mother's voice filled Zinnia with a calm… similar to that of winds which came after the rain.. _

"_Lonely is the_

_Palace of the mind_

_Waiting for the _

_Chime of the bells._

_Lonely is the _

_Tune of my harp_

_Waiting for the_

_Angel of love._

_It maybe morn or eve _

_Memories are always alive _

_The angel never leaves me_

_She never broke that bond_

_She always smiled.._

_She says the flowers are blooming_

_The bees are humming,_

_The birds are singing_

_She never forgets me._

_Call to me,_

_Call to me, _

_When the flowers are blooming_

_When the bees are humming.."_

_Her mother's songs were typical of Charn's style of singing—a background, two characters and the role of memories.._

_Slowly her brother dozed off, and she learnt a new song._

"_You must never forget these songs. They are as old as this land. It is said that when the people were good and kind, Aslan himself came on festival days to hear them." explained her mother, as she tucked in Halo._

"_Who's Aslan?" whispered Zinnia._

"_A great being , full of goodness and power. He created our land and taught us how to rule.", replied her mother._

"_Where is he now?"_

"_He roams many worlds, creating new worlds and rewarding those who are good.", said her mother._

"_Why doesn't he come here anymore?"_

"_The ways of the people have turned wicked; they care nothing for others' pain. Aslan isn't pleased with the fall of a once great and peaceful world. Also they don't believe in him anymore"_

_A silence. So this Aslan was someone who was noble and helped those who believed in him. He also taught the difference between good and evil._

"_Has he abandoned us, then?" asked Zinnia after some time._

"_No.. But we have abandoned his path.. His faith.. We have abandoned him" said her mother, looking at the large red sun sinking out of sight… _

Memories .. Whatever left her these wouldn't—for better or for worse. She trudged on…in her mind she was ten again and singing as if happiness were forever.

_Call to me, call to me…. Lonely is the palace of the mind_…

***********************************************************************************

The Valiant queen sat in the library of Cair Paravel, looking for books to complete her latest batch of homework. Yes, homework.

Being the youngest of the four, she was the last to complete her studies. Subjects ranged from political science, logic, literature to even dance and music.

She didn't mind the last two but pouted when she thought about her siblings who were busy attending their royal duties, free from this obligation. Well, anyway only a year was left-- she should try her best. A smile came to her lips when she remembered how Peter and Susan had paced the libraries so many times, trying to learn for their final tests—so much so, that the guards had thought that somebody had broken in.

Edmund, on the other hand, found his studies quite simple, and took only four years instead of the usual six to master them. Needless to say, the others kings and queens quite envied him for this.

Lucy sighed. This was going to be a long report. Or, rather it _**had**_ to be a long report—on the _"Cultural Practices of the Different Worlds of Telmarine, Ettinsmoor, Narnia and __Lone__Islands."_ She wondered how in the "world" it was supposed to be related to literature, but then the Professor had threatened to give more if she didn't hand in the report within five days.

"_But sir, how are cultural practices relevant to literature? Wasn't it part of Social Knowledge?"_ asked Lucy, when the professor wrote down the assignment on the large black slate of the Royal Study.

After all she hadmastered that subject two years ago, along with History and Mathematics. She consideredthatan achievement in itself. It was well-known that the third year of studies was usually the most taxing.

"_Your Majesty, to understand Literature, complete with its nuances, it is imperative to understand its cultural background. Take for example, the folk tales of Lone Islands, where pirates are frequently given moral roles._

_ Without context, it will seem absurd to attribute such qualities to pirates who lawfully are understood as something against civilized society. But in Lone Islands, they were responsible for providing contact with the other worlds and employment, security etc. Hence, they are given benevolent images." said Professor O'Brien._

"_But sir, such cultural differences are known to me. Why do I need to do it all over again?"_

"_It must be understood __**in context of **__l__iterature. That is why I am setting you this task, Your Majesty."_

"_But Sir.."_ protested Lucy.

"_I am sure Your Majesty will do her best. If not, I will have to test your capability in a few more assignments this term, all in the context of literature."_ He said with a twinkle in his eye.

Lucy knew it was no use arguing. He might seem kind and "twinkly"(as Susan liked to put it) but usually stuck to his word in such matters.

The upshot of it was that she was spending a lovely afternoon shut up in the dark, silent library to complete her assignment.

However, she was absorbed by it, in sometime. It felt good to brush up her knowledge about what she already knew. Maybe it wouldn't take so long. Then she could go riding on the new white horse, pick apples with Susan, and roam the forests with Peter…

Her mind trailed. She was looking at the pictures of people celebrating the harvest festival in Ettinsmoor. They were wearing new clothes and giving banquets for the benefit of the poor. At this time, matchmaking took upmost ofthe time of many families….

In the present picture, younger siblings stood at the end of a balcony looking over on their elder sister who was busy with her fiancé. Quite a familiar sight that was-- she and Edmund surveying the latest lovestruck admirer of Susan with a slightly disapproving Peter in the background...

_Background_-- that suddenly brought her back to her work. Few minutes later, she was about to complete Narnian cultural practices. _That was fast_, thought Lucy excitedly. Now she had a lot of time to do other things...

She picked up the books hurriedly and proceeded to stuff them back in to their shelves. In the hurry , she dropped one of the books, tripped over it and landed heavily on an old dusty trunk. She picked herself up, putting the books back.

She then turned to look at the trunk, which had broken her fall. She noticed that there was not just one trunk but a whole row of them, lined up right behind the last bookcase in the library.

_I wonder what's inside them.. why aren't they on the shelves?_, thought Lucy.

She opened the first one. It had an old velvet lining, patchy with age.


	3. Chapter 3: Storm

_Hey Hellos!! I worked out the second chapter..I hope its reasonably long..And I really hope who ever reads this enjoys it.. its my first fanfic.. well considering the amount of mistakes I've made you could guess that .. _

_Disclaimer : I disclaim.. otherwise I would be sitting on a pile of money and choosing cute actors to play the leads.. sigh.. Skandar Keynes.. I know that sounds far fetched.._

_Oh yeah I know I should provide a little background to WHY I am writing about Charn and Narnia.. Well I thought the name .. Charn.. is very .. interesting.. it rang in my head.. Then when I read about the Magician's Nephew.. I wasn't willing to believe that a land so old was destroyed.. So I just revived a part of it here.. How Aslan created the worlds was also very sweeping..really good.. And of course, last but not the least ED is my fav character.. through whatever fantasies I've read.._

_So please guys..please please read and review.. tell me what you think about it.. especially all the experienced authors.. whom I am inspired and scared of at the same time.._

_Oh and thanks to those who did read and review..thanks Misha!! and Tar Tar( medha) for helping along..couldn't do without your prodding!! _

_Oh and THREE CHEERS for TarTar for giving THE MOST AMAZNG title!!!!! _

_Thanks also to Crystallized Chaos for reviewing!! U can't imagine what it did to me wen I saw them!!_

***********************************************************************

So here goes..

Edmund looked at his scroll. He felt slightly barbaric and maybe a bit too harsh. _It is necessary after all that happened.. prevention is better than cure _.. thought Edmund. And safety for the citizens of Narnia roughly translated into "prevention" for him...

He rolled up the scroll and sealed it with the Royal Symbol of Narnia : a figure of a lion superimposed upon crossed swords. This would be read, approved or disapproved of at the Council of the Just, held every fortnight.

He was about to put it into the shelves of a medium sized coffer, when the ornately carved runes on it caught his eye. They depicted a creature of great power, with its wings covering its face to show impartiality and objectivity.

The runes and glyphs elaborated the characteristics of a system of rules, their benefits for the citizens, the power of rationality and most importantly, the need for changing laws.

Without these any society could fall to ruin.

The coffer's lid were inscribed with these words :

"_**A Holder of Power**_

_**Inspires awe,**_

_**If that Holder be Just**_

_**'Tis deemed that**_

_**He shall inspire,**_

_**Justice."**_

.. _inspire justice.. _

A fierce fire coursed through Edmund as he realized his title. Yet again he recognized the enormous task before his hand. He would make sure that every drop of his blood was worthy of his citizens.... he would make sure they understood fairness, equality and the true nature of Narnia.

He tore open the scroll and read it again:

_With the authority of being the Just King and the holder of the titles of Duke of Lantern Waste, Count of the Western March, and Knight of the Noble Order of the Table, I hereby release rules(CT/ A1/ Ar 3) concerning "Aspects of the Citizenry(Narnian Citizens in relation to Foreign Citizenship)" :_

_Citizens of Narnia have the right to stay, prosper and pursue interests amenable to themselves(in Narnia) and to Narnia. _

_Any activity detrimental to the Narnian perspective shall face inquiry and would favorably be followed by adequate action._

_Citizens of other lands (Archenland, Lone Islands, Calormen, Seven Isles, Telmar, Terebinthia, Ettinsmoor) are to acquire legal citizenship under the following conditions: _

_If living peacefully* for more than five years, with knowledge of their residence available to Lords, Ministers, Tax Collectors and testimony from Narnian Citizens (sound of mind and loyal of heart), with numbers exceeding ten in case of village and fifteen in case of town/city._

_If awarded citizenship by any of the Ruling Four of Cair Paravel._

_If Refugee and requiring immediate assistance , those creatures shall be given temporary care and assistance._

_*for explanation refer to earlier scrolls which deals with approved qualities of Citizenry_

_**these rules maybe withheld in special cases, especially those related to criminal offense._

He gazed out of the window of his office. The council meeting was tomorrow. _I finished within the nick of time.. not bad for a day's work_, he thought with a smile.

***************************

The water sloshed dangerously as Zinnia climbed the rough steps to her tiny three room residence. She lowered her pace, not wanting to spill whatever little water she had.

She climbed the final step. Placing the water carrier down, she leaned against the frame of her door with one hand on her waist. She rapped on the door with the lion-shaped knocker.

No answer.

"Halo!" she called with her voice raised. "Halo!". Still no answer.

_The idiot_, she thought. _Must have slipped out by the back door. _She left the water carrier on the front step, climbed through the window and opened the door. She emptied the water carrier into a nearby tub and set about preparing dinner, or at least something which resembled it._ If not anything, starvation will surely kill us_, mused Zinnia.

The gigantic red sun was setting and Zinnia could already feel the sharp drop in the temperature from its earlier searing intensity.

The sheer irresponsibility of Halo angered her no end. _He always does this. Can't he even wait for me to come back before he goes off wandering??.. anyway he should be back by now.. its nearly dark ._

Another memory scraped at her nerves. Unwillingly, her thoughts drifted back to the time when Halo had wandered off, a few days after her mistress's death. He had later been found at the river bank.

It had been three days after the funeral. She knew she should have been feeling remorse but instead, she had felt relief.

No more orders. No more waiting to receive her weekly salary.

Seeing the diseased body of her mistress had evoked pity in her but to her surprise, none of the other servants had reacted the same way. Instead, they had run way out of sheer terror of contracting the disease.

In her final days , her mistress had given her the little three-room house...

"_I hated the sight of you. But you cared for me even when my own sons shuddered to come near me. I would like you to stay here after my death.. Bah!! I, giving your own house back to you!!.. Some usurper I am.." she said and rolled over to face Zinnia._

"_Madam, pray do not think of such morbid things!!" countered Zinnia. _

"_You shall live long" she said with incomplete loyalty. She half hoped she wouldn't. _

"_Seeing that I am returning your house, I might as well give you back this.." She dropped a thin silver chain into Zinnia's palm. It was her mother's chain. "Your mother bought your life with it.. it should help you survive". _

"_Sing to me.. I want to sleep" ordered her mistress. _

_Zinnia sung the song which her mother used to sing when the heat wouldn't let her sleep. It was Halo's favorite too..._

She decided she couldn't wait anymore. Eating some and packing the rest of the dinner, she set off in pursuit of Halo.

As she walked down the steps she noticed the sky.

Even after sunset it was red.

It could only mean a storm – which was an even more unlikely occurrence. The last storm happened when she was five years old. She didn't know whether it meant good fortune, but, she was sure of one thing.

_It meant change._

****************************************

Lucy picked up one of the many books that were lying in the trunk. It had a black cover with a single symbol inscribed on it. In fact, when she looked down, she noticed that all the books were similar-- black with a single rune on it.

She traced the rune embossed on the book she was holding and withdrew her hand in shock.

_It is hot!!_ thought Lucy.

Looking back at the trunk she realized that it lay very near the wall torch. _Maybe the heat of the flame.. or was it my imagination??_

She touched the rune again. Nothing happened. She opened it and flipped the pages. Verses, in a strange hand, were inscribed from end to end. She realized something else. The book was handwritten!!

Lucy knew that anything handwritten was either something of great importance or was of immense age.

_Yes it has to be.. there are even tiny ink spots... _She picked up a few more books and proceeded to her tower for further examination.

"Your Majesty! Your Majesty!" . Lucy turned around mid step and saw a young lady- in- waiting. Her face was flushed and she looked worried.

" Oh hello Nerium!" she recognized the part-dryad, part-human recently engaged in Susan's service.

"What is wrong? " asked Lucy.

" There is a message for you from Queen Susan and High King Peter. They had to leave most urgently for Ettinsmoor. They will be returning in a fortnight or so" replied Nerium.

"What was so urgent? They could have informed us before!" exclaimed Lucy.

"They didn't mention the cause of such haste, Your Majesty.." Nerium bowed and said " I'll take your leave, Your Majesty".

"Wait!". This time Nerium stopped mid step and looked around. "Your Majesty?".

"Does Edmund know?" asked Lucy. "Yes, he was informed as soon as they left." replied Nerium.

"Go Nerium. Thank you for the information."

_Just like them.. leaving without telling anyone.. Peter isn't the only one who can handle emergencies.. and Susan doesn't have to be overprotective all the time.. _thought Lucy, irritated at her siblings for their sometimes unreasonable lack of concern. _Though I am sure it was important..._

_*****_

Lucy stood at her window and studied the sea. It seemed darker than usual. Its depths swirled in deep bluish – black unrest. _This could only mean_.. she looked up at the sky-- its surface was quickly being covered with dark clouds .... _a storm, _thought Lucy.

She sat down at her table and opened the first book. Its ink was dark red in colour. The handwriting slanted to the left. She looked down at the letters. _I don't even know what language its written in.. I wish I knew what it meant..or where it came from..._ The verses seemingly ran till the end of the book. She shut the book in frustration.

_Maybe Edmund knows what language it is_.. She walked towards the door. Suddenly a gust of wind came through the window, spiraled around Lucy and opened & shut the book with a flutter. She stood rooted to the spot. It was not the cool, damp breeze of storms-- _it was hot and dry. _Hot like the rune on that book,earlier in the library.

She must have awakened some ancient magic. Suddenly scared, she wanted to go to Edmund.

Another gust of wind.

This was one was searingly hot. She was terrified.

She took a few steps to her door. This time the wind rushed with a greater intensity and surrounded her.

Her skin was on fire. She cried out in agony. Her cry seemed to echo the other cries which circled around her in the vortex of the burning air . She heard women and children crying. The heat snatched whatever moisture her skin had. _I am drying up!_ "Edmund ! Edmund! Oh no, stop.. stop.. Please!!"

Then, just as suddenly as it had come , it stopped. The air became calm. Lucy looked first at the window and then at the book. Its pages had reopened. The ink seemed to shine. Her desktop candle was burning on its own.

**************************

Edmund was riding out on Philip, enjoying the stormy weather. The cool wind ruffled his hair while the speed of his horse made his eyes water. "Philip, stop!" . He was at the edge of a creek. Its water shone with crystalline purity. "Have a break. Drink some water." said Edmund and patted the horse.

"I am neither tired nor thirsty. I think you only stopped to admire this weather." Philip replied and neighed in laughter.

Edmund smiled as he got off. "You're right. I stopped to do just that".

He continued,"You know,I heard that water nymphs stay at the edge of this creek. They often bathe here."

"Despite that, I think no one would bathe in the middle of a storm. Your trip was wasted, Sire". Said Philip.

"I didn't come to look at bathing nymphs!!" Edmund said, color rising to his cheeks.

Philip laughed again. "Yes, Your Majesty. I was merely pointing out an after-effect of cool weather on creatures. It makes skin very hot. It is but a natural reaction. Despite that they don't--"

"Shut up Philip. I know what creatures feel in a storm." The now reddened Edmund let the wind cool his cheeks. His skin _was _very hot.

Philip neighed again and cantered away. " I'll come back as soon you call me". Edmund nodded

It was very peaceful here. He sat down under a tree and shut his eyes.

So many leaves sang in quick gusts while every blade of grass danced to the wind. The wind became stronger.

He opened his eyes. The surface of the stream shimmered in the diffuse, pale light and the water seemed to glow like a gem.

He stood up, moved closer to its surface and touched it.

Its cold ignited his fingertips and he dipped his hand further into the water. It was warmer inside.

His hand was suspended in a cold, formless void, but it was regaining its heat. He touched a pebble.

Its surface was smooth, slippery. Under the water it even felt soft

The wind tugged at his dark hair and blew around his neck. It rushed through his light shirt and came out through his sleeve. The chill delighted Edmund. He turned his face towards the direction of the wind. The force of it broke against his face and rippled under every eyelash.

_It feels so good_.. thought Edmund....._I could be like this forever...._


	4. Chapter 4: Rain

Disclaimer: I don't own any C.S. Lewis stuff.. but I do own my story..

.........................................

It was pitch dark. The sun had set long since Zinnia left her house. But the sky was still red. She walked feverishly calling out for her little brother. She felt as if his sleeping face, which she saw every morning, was of another lifetime.

_Why isn't he replying?.. Why did you run away? .._

"Listen to me Halo .. Halo.. please.. Where ARE you..??" Zinnia had called out till her voice had become hoarse. She had walked to whatever place she knew. He was not near the dried river bank. He was not on the rocky cliff. He wasn't behind the palace grounds either.

She remembered how the few inhabitants of the river bank looked at her with a known sadness – such disappearances were not uncommon. She could hear the weak voice of Hrehaan, who was old, bent but of womanly structure, who told her not to look for him.

"He has gone to the Gods. He will be dead but will be born in a better world." Hrehaan said grasping her arm tightly.

"Go away. I had just asked if you had seen him. I don't need your advice". Zinnia struggled free of her grasp.

"He will go to the new worlds. Do not stop him. Why are you such a selfish sister?" The old crone screamed some more oddities till Zinnia had walked away.

_What does she keep talking about? What worlds? … How dare she say such things about my only... family??Curse you!!_

She had inadvertently walked to the river bank again. "Halo!! Halo!!" . She looked across the barrier. Under the dark, red sky, the sand looked light pink. She remembered his face when he was born. His cheeks were flushed pink, with a rosebud mouth.......

............................

"_So he is a little brother. So, that's what he is. But he still looks like a blob." She was eight, sitting in the center of the bed with a warm, shapeless bundle on her lap._

"_Yes, I guess that's what he is. He is your little brother." Her mother said to her from the edge of the bed._

"_When will he talk?" asked Zinnia._

"_Soon"._

"_When will he walk?_

"_Soon"_

"_When will he love me?"_

_Her mother smiled. " He already does."_

Her chin rested on the ruined brick barrier. Her vision blurred. Tears stung her eyes and rolled down a cheek. She still clutched the dinner which she had wrapped and climbed over the barrier. "Come back." She sobbed, each breath hurting her chest._"Come back.... "_

_................................................._

Lucy slowly unclenched her hand around the doorknob and took unsteady steps to her table. She stretched out her arm and touched the pages of the book.

The pages were smooth, white and when she lifted a page, she saw that the pages was extremely thin. Through the translucence, she could see her candle burn with a steady yellow glow. The flame had an unearthly strength -- it didn't even seem to flicker.

She sat down and traced the pattern of verses on the page. A sigh of wind blew through her window-- it was the damp, soft breeze reminiscent of a storm. The pages fluttered and she quickly pressed her palm to the pages, so as not to lose the page the scorching air had laid open. They still moved, as if it were breathing.

_What did I touch?.. Each page seems to move as if they were alive.. Is it magic?T_he letters were joined with each other, but some had symbols drawn above it. _What are you trying to tell me? ..I can neither read, write nor understand you..._

As she thought this, the temperature around her dropped-- it became fragrant of the earth and resembled that of spent gale. This was strange as the storm was yet to start.

Lucy put the book aside and picked up another one. As she ruffled through the pages of this one, she felt the same throbbing of life under her fingers. Unlike earlier, the books didn't burn her. It seemed to channel an alien life which hummed softly under her gentle fingers. Its small motions moved with trepidation. Yes, they were glad to be alive.

Time passed as she leafed through every book. Each one was the same-- thin pages, dark ink, and verses. Its continuity, thread of language remained in its verses. _What could be so mystical, so __unknown?, _thought Lucy. In all of literature and legends, she didn't come across something so powerful yet vulnerable enough to be stored in simple leaves. _And what is its purpose here?.._

The wind sighed more than ever. It howled around her tower with a melancholy she couldn't understand. The grief was deep, but had an understanding of its resolution. _Its not grief.. its sorrow,_thought Lucy. Yet, its restraint made sure the sadness didn't pierce.

Leaving all the books open, she moved to her window seat. She had sensed a strange thread between the air and the books. _Its as if.. the air gave me the moods of those leaves.. _

"Tell me.. I want to know you.. Call me..I am waiting.. " murmured Lucy as she looked at the light rain which had now started. She could picture many drops falling on leaves, which then moved with a shiver. The water trickled from trees to bushes, to undergrowth , to the grass and then finally to the ground. Again, the scent of wet earth flooded her senses. She closed her eyes and breathed. Apart from earth, wildflowers had given their trace to the soft wind.

_Call to me, Call to me.. _

The wind had a language of its own. The melancholy was now fragmented with silences of the falling rain and of isolated keens. Lucy opened her eyes fixed her gaze on a distant tree, which yielded to the gentle ministrations of the cool, invisible winds. It seemed to play with it. When it blew this way, the tree hastened to do so, but as it started to move, the wind moved in another direction, which threw the branches into confusion. The meandering of the two was akin to the admirer dying to please his dream of love.

_Waiting for the Angel of love.._

_Wait.. What?_..._Did I think _that? She looked up at the sky surprised and remembered her thoughts. _Yes I called..only _to be_ called.. _"What games do you play with me, churning sky? Why do you echo my thoughts?" she said aloud.

The sky responded by increasing the pace of its shower. With a muffled crack, the clouds rained swift, icy drops. The hiss of the rain drowned the howling of the wind. _You're so still now.. What is it that you can't confide in me??.._ as she thought this, she turned her back on the window and looked at her open books.

Lightning flashed. The lone candle was was lost in its sudden brightness. Lucy has felt the stillness of the wind and the iciness of the showers. _If the natural elements were related to these books, then.. _"You speak of long forgotten happiness... Will that cause you such sorrow??".

She hugged one of the books to her chest, and tried to think of forgotten joys. So many instances flooded her. It was as if a part of her heart had locked them safely into corner which could only be opened by remembrance.... ...

_She had opened the wardrobe and stepped into icy snow. The contrasting, unfamiliar dark and light fascinated her. Pure , bright snow.. Dark, smooth barks..a lamppost, cast a faint glow on the air around itself..._

The winds started to blow ever so softly. The books started to leave a faint scent around her. It was so fresh, yet it smelled like nothing she knew.. Lucy took it in....

_She had made friends with Faun Tumnus. When he started to cry she gave him her handkerchief... "you need it more than me.."_

The more she breathed, the notes of the fragrance became clearer. A leafy , tangy presence was followed by something musky, woody. She started to feel dizzy. The scent was intoxicating...

_Edmund had been rescued from the white witch and was standing, looking pleadingly at his siblings. His lip was cut and he looked pale. She ran to him and hugged him. She had only one thought..."You've come back at last.." His smile lit up his face..._

Her hair flew around her as she tried to shake her head free of the scent. Her room appeared in shades of purple as the lightning flashed again. The candle was put out long ago.....

_A girl with two long, black braids shook a bright rattle at a baby. She uttered a squeal of delight as the baby clutched at it. It put the rattle into its mouth and gurgled contentedly..._

The picture was so real, but she knew it didn't come from her. The light of that frame was too bright, the lines too clear..." Who was that ?.." .. Lucy gasped as she found breathing becoming more difficult. She could feel the perfume enveloping her.. ..

"Help.. " Her voice came in a heavy whisper.. "What are you doing to me?? ..." Another image flashed at her wide, dilated eyes. This was no memory....

_The girl was waiting with outstretched hands for the baby who came to her with faltering steps. With a cry she received him as he completed his short path and fell into her arms..._

Lucy fell with a thump on her pillows. She was sweating....

"_I wanth tho pffl.. pffl.. pfllaay somefing..." Young Lucy pouted and swung her too short legs which were dangling of the high chair. A chubby Edmund gave his hand and she climbed down. "Alright.. We will play hide 'n' seek." _

"_Whaths thhat?" asked an astonished Lucy. "I will show you.." said Edmund and his brown eyes glittered with excitement...._

She was still breathing with effort. She didn't even know that she had this memory. As she drifted in and out of consciousness, she thought about the dark haired girl. Who was she? Just as the thought entered, another picture flashed under her eyes...

_Dark hair flew around as she lifted the baby in the air and twirled on the spot. "Be careful.."came a voice. "Mama look!! Halo's halo!!" shouted the girl as she lifted him to the sunlight. His peach fuzz caught the sun and seemed to glow. The girl cradled him as he gave out a stream of nonsense. He gurgled again... ...._

She blinked helplessly as her mind glimpsed another corner of itself....

_It was one of the days when she woke woke before dawn and expected her brother to do the same. Peter sat with Lucy on his lap on the window seat. "Hey, Lucy. The sun is rising.." she pressed her face to the window as the first rays of the sun filtered through. Peter gazed at it, not realizing that Lucy had turned and now watched him and not the sun._

"_Your hair is shining!!" she cried as she touched his hair. "Goldilocks!!" she said as Peter smiled down at her._

Her breath steadied. Dimly, she understood her link with the texts. She put an arm across her forehead. It was burning hot. She tried to sleep but couldn't. She felt drained and allowed whatever was happening to unfold in herself....

Suddenly, she was consumed by those many clear, sharp images. She no longer tried to keep aware of herself. It seemed that her helpless consciousness escaped from blackness to a searing white......

…

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Edmund was drenched but still didn't feel like leaving the creek. He had sent back Philip quite a while back. He knew that however faithful was his horse, he didn't extend the same towards getting wet, especially in the rain. With a sigh, he contemplated on the creek.

The ribbon of crystalline water had given way to the arrows of rain. They came in sharp, disturbed showers and broke the calm of the stream. It now resembled a sword, whose edges rippled with constant, jagged movements.

The rain made small spheres which at first dipped , then resumed to calm which again broke to mild turbulence as the drops of water hit it again. And again. And again...

_It seems each drop tries to touch the heart of creek, but just can't.. _thought Edmund, pensive in the chill which had now descended.

He relished the chill as the wind blew in short, swift gusts. It seemed so gentle but menacing at the same time. With every gust it gave a glimpse of its hidden passion and intensity. It warned Edmund of its moodiness, and speed at which it could change itself into something he couldn't begin to know. He smiled and thought..... _I couldn't begin to know you..._

The leaves, which trickled the surplus watery pearls on his head, gave another message to him.

He was assured of peace and companionship. After all, the trees were used to the whims of the windy rain, as she gave them the very thing they craved. Love. Life.

He got up unsteadily as the grass was slick with water. His boots were wet and water dripped even from its laces.

With a rueful smile he remembered Susan's indignation as he muddied the many corridors of Cair Paravel till he reached his tower. Well, she wouldn't be here tonight. Somehow that that thought didn't give him relief.

His conscience told him to return. It was late and Lucy was alone in the castle. Also he had a council meeting tomorrow and couldn't retire as sick. Still, the vivid blue and flashing purple of the woods around him tugged at his heart. _This is so difficult.....but I will be back, _he promised to the creek.

Edmund felt the soft, cold splashes of the raindrops on his face as he trudged through the woods. The trees whispered goodbye from every branch , while the grass danced in a pattern characteristic of the rushing air.

Now they were free to enter into a private dialogue with their companion, the wind.

He could make out the faint, gray outlines of Cair Paravel as he came closer to the castle. No light shone from Lucy's window. His brow creased .

It was unusual for her to sleep so early. It wasn't as if she was a late sleeper but she always said goodnight to everyone before she retired. _Well, maybe she was tired._ But even then.. well he would talk to her in the morning. Maybe it was a particularly harrowing piece of homework.

He had reached the top of a low hill that signaled that home was near. He stopped and looked back. From here he could see both the castle and his favorite place, the creek.. Lightning flashed. The waters of the stream shone with a pearly pink color, while the woods around had shed their dark green momentarily for robes purple.

He walked on. He could see the pale moon playing hide 'n' seek with the clouds. Hide 'n' seek. He laughed suddenly when he remembered how he taught Lucy the game. They had played that for the first time when a rather annoying friend of mother's had called. With one of them hiding while the other met her, both mystified the woman greatly.

The rain sang in quiet hisses and cool breaths as it fell down with greater force. Despite that, it felt like naughty tricks which thrilled the skin immensely. However, its transparent coolness wasn't enough for Edmund's insatiable need to thrill himself, to feel alive...

He couldn't imagine what attracted him towards storms or rain. All he could admit was to a pull which defied sense or feeling. His normally logical mind was shut itself away whenever he heard the first strains of the dark, mysterious invisible music. His thoughts, feelings, moods --- all converged and sang with the gale. Even then, storms weren't something which filled him with happiness or peace. It gave him the sense of dangerous control and freedom.

He marveled at how the uncaring wind almost never touched the tiniest of grass and saplings. Its passion was only towards its elders-- the trees, forests and mountains. Storms made him glad to be alive. It pushed him to experience and remember. His thoughts bowed to something so beautiful and terrible. He wondered if anyone could give him this inexplicable, complicated sensation....

The guard curtsied respectfully as he reached the castle door. "Goodnight , Your Majesty."he said as Edmund walked into the hall. He nodded in return.

A flash of lightning momentarily lit up the suits of armor which lined the wall. He could see the door of the library firmly bolted. _Its been long not reading in there,_ he thought. After all, he had started to send for books in his office or tower since he had assumed full responsibility of a Just King. He knew it was quite late, but didn't feel sleepy or tired.

With a sense of purpose, he unlocked the library and walked into utter darkness. The wind had blown out the torches.

He fumbled for a candle and matchsticks. Finally, he managed to light one.

The reddish brown binding of the books gleamed in the candle-light. His eyes fell on his favorite section-- cultural literature and customs of the many lands.. An unusual choice, since his siblings weren't particularly fond of it or for that matter even his tutors. Except for professor O'Brien who could go on about a tiny village for ages. He pictured the classroom in his head.....

_"Some towns and cities are rumored to form only through the strength of many souls. These souls were believed to be mystical forces of nature. They were channeled mainly in written or spoken form. Also these cities or places are ancient enough to be turned into legend."_

_"How is that possible? I mean, such forces are angered by the mere thought of being bound to service. How did they serve the bidding of others?" asked Edmund._

_"It may not apply if such forces are convinced by the extent of need. If they feel it is justified by some of their own standards, they may heed the call." replied Professor O' Brien as he traced a map on the board. For example, it is generally true that they would heed Aslan. Why do you ask?"_

_"Because.... Aslan himself unleashes these forces. How could then anyone channel them ?" persisted Edmund._

_"Some people through intense faith and knowledge did manage channel them. And 'channel' means pleading with the forces to hear their call. Such calls are even said to be felt by Aslan himself. You seem to feel channel meant imprisonment." His tutor's eyes twinkled as he peered at him through his glasses._

_"I... umm.. yes.." stammered Edmund._

_"Well it seems you are very interested. Your assignment is to look for such written or spoken material." said the Professor as he gathered his things._

_"But Sir, aren't these texts hard to find? I mean you said they were ancient...." protested his student._

_"I asked you to look for them. If you don't find them, it is alright. I daresay the library will prove useful. And so would the dryads."_

_............................................_

_Please please review!! Go for green!!_


	5. Chapter 5:Earth

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything by C.S. Lewis..author dreams..a woman in white robes galloped magnificently on a horse..she reached a castle.. and hoisted the dark haired groom behind her and rode into the Western Woods(Edmund..DUH!!..very stupid I know, that usually comes when you run out of ideas....but bear with patient readers, bear with me..)_

_Hey I am back with this fic after a long long time....It was getting so long long and slow....I almost gave it up..but I really want to complete it....Please readers, keep reading and telling me about what you think!!!!!_

_Thanks again for all those reviews and suggestions. Please keep reviewing... I am absolutely for them....and so is the little green button!!_

…_................................_

_...And so would the dryads..._

This conversation echoed in his mind as he traced the many spines of the books in the 'Cultural' section. Till date, he hadn't managed to find a hint of these legendary places, and Edmund thought himself to be reasonably good scholar.

He remembered he had scoured the library for such information and felt his pride smart when he couldn't find _anything_, anything at all. It became one of the only assignments which he couldn't complete.

He reddened when he recalled the consultation with the dryads. He had asked them to send any information which help channel life into lands, or anything which matched that description. It resulted in him being bombarded by sentimental songs written in red ink. When asked for explanation, they had replied coquettishly about "love leading to life" and whether he had "understood what that meant."

He noted that one of the books had a characteristic bookmark-- a feather dyed in blue ink. _Lucy...._

Professor O'Brien must have set her some similar assignments too. He made a mental note about asking her whether she would want any help with it.

The candle melted steadily as he read through the Old Narnian Wedding Traditions. Apparently two creatures could marry even if "they were of contrasting species." There was no mention of procreational obligations.

_The only thing which matters is the desire to spend their lives together._

_Children however, are seen as special gifts of benevolent spirits. The birth of a child(same or part -specie) means immense celebration and responsibility. The most common communion are of humans and dryads. As such, there are very few part-dryad children. They are known by their unusual beauty and sensitivity....._

The yellow flame soundlessly burnt the wax to a translucent mess, which spread over the table like shapeless petals. As the wick touched the base of the candle, the flame burnt brighter and went out without warning. Edmund fumbled around again, this time to shut the books and put it back into the shelves. He felt his way out of the door and into the passage. He welcomed the dim lamplight which lined the wall.

He took down a torch and went up the steps of Lucy's tower. Hoping to elicit a reaction , he opened the door of her chambers without knocking,. None came. He peeped in and found her sleeping soundly, with a book laid open next to her. She appeared to breathe deeply, rhythmically.

He watched her face. Devoid of its ruddy hue, she was pale. His eyes went to the open window. _She shouldn't have left it open.._.Tucking the covers around her, he turned away and left for his tower.

…

................................................

Nerium waited a little more. She knew Edmund would take a longer time to sleep. Meanwhile she busied herself by sorting Queen Susan's chambers a little more. She proceeded towards the summer closet , with an armful of gowns. She arranged them there with a specific color code ranging from dark to light.

She sighed. It _was_ so difficult to go out from the palace after dark, especially without permission from one of the monarchs. Queen Susan absolutely wouldn't allow it, while the other three had to be wheedled weeks before the actual day. She knew it was for safety but felt cloistered nevertheless. She, after all, was part-dryad. A strange restlessness would come over her especially during certain seasons and days. New moon for example, was a time when she tried every way she could, to escape the castle. Her reasons generally included familial responsibility.

This raised more questions, each more uncomfortable than the other. What familial duties would require her only after nightfall? Why couldn't she go in the day and come at night? Why would she want to engage in such activities which were so unsafe??

Peter and Edmund's words rang in her ears as she went out on those specific days. Only Lucy could sympathize with her situation. She knew about the extremely arcane rituals which dryads were obliged to follow. She remembered how she chanced upon them by accident.......

_Lucy was up early. But today it was unusually so. It was more than two hours to sunrise. She sat at her window and breathed in the summer air. It was sweet but dry. She thought about what woke her up. She couldn't put her finger on it, but she had heard people talking. She put on her robe and exited her door. _

_She moved across the grass towards the creek. Nerium had just stolen out under the eye of the guard and was frozen in terror at the figure of her Valiant Queen walking so determinedly to where _she_ herself was supposed to be an hour ago._

"_Your Majesty!" cried Nerium. Lucy walked on. She could only hear music. Clear, melancholy voices which were thinly veiled by the moonless night._

_Nerium couldn't catch up with her. Very soon, she had reached the creek . She stood still, hypnotized by those voices. Panting, Nerium neared Lucy and tapped on her shoulder. _

"_Your Majesty, you shouldn't be here. The elder dryads will be angry. Very angry. I request you to leave. Please, Your Majesty, the wrath of the dryads are famous..."_

"_Its all right Nerium. I will leave. I know how secretive dryads are. But why are you here? Aren't you supposed to be with your family?". Lucy had walked a little away from the creek and was now looking at her with raised eyebrows._

"_Your Majesty....". Nerium hesitated. She knew how angry her aunt would be if she knew she had told anyone about her origin. But if Queen Lucy could be trusted with this, then why not---_

"_Your Majesty... they are my family. I am part-dryad." Nerium looked up with doubt. She wondered how the queen would react._

_Lucy' s head reeled. Her eyes were wide with wonder. She came closer to her. "No wonder you are so.....unearthly." She could get the scent of new lemon leaves._

"_Was your mother a fruit-tree dryad?" asked Lucy. Her texts had hinted that part dryads had mostly come about through human males and female dryads._

"_How did you know it was my mother? Yes she was...she was." Nerium's voice had become very soft._

"_I am sorry. It was just a guess. Though I was little curious about your appearance." Her eyes went over her extremely curly brown hair, which sometimes showed green tints. At night it seemed dark green. " And...I did think your eyes were a peculiar shade of hazel.", she said with smile._

"_It could be. Actually, they try to imitate the colors of lemon trees." Nerium smiled back. _

"_Yes.. I mean they look green in the day and yellowish at night." _

_Nerium and Lucy looked at each other. They started to laugh. Clapping a hand on her mouth, Lucy whispered "I must go now". Nerium nodded and took a few a steps to the creek and looked back. Lucy was looking at her with a new recognition. "Thank you.." She hesitated and then added "Lucy." _

She felt her way to the kitchen door. It was the most "unsafe" considering that the Head Cook's chambers were the closest but it was also shortest way to escape into the woods. She stole a glance behind her as she shut the door noiselessly.

In a short while she neared the clearing where her aunts sat and swayed to their whispering rhythms. She was soaking wet. There was no thunder now, just steady rain.

"Good evening, elder aunts" said Nerium as she gave a small bow and took her place among them. She waited a moment for them to respond to her presence.

A youthful face tinged with the palest shade of green opened her eyes from a reverie. She was Deylaav, the second oldest of her aunts. She had silver hair which were tied into coils and wound around her head. Her silvery eyes bored into Nerium's chrome ones.

"Tardiness isn't a quality that is tolerated." she said in a soft but musical voice. Her tone tingled with irritation.

"I am sorry but the Kings and Queens..." muttered Nerium, "..they hadn't allowed me out because of the rain, but I... I slipped out. That .. er.. took me some time." She knew that such behavior wasn't supported by her aunts, but they had no choice in the matter. Nerium had to be present-- no matter how she would come. Her thoughts were now being seconded by Fresia, the oldest aunt. Her silvery hair was left open and her eyes which were exactly like her niece's, showed patience.

"Your behavior isn't commendable, but we will have to condone it. Though I do understand the concerns of the Monarchs, who have no knowledge of our customs, in allowing a young thing like you, out at night. I wish I could impress upon them the necessary requirements of our customs."

At her words, the other Dryads turned their faces to Nerium.

Their expressions showed doubt mixed with acceptance. The views of one of the oldest dryads held weight and experience which the others could contemplate.

"However, I would like continue with more important matters right now. I wish to let my sisters know that a strange vibration passes through the lands. I feel dregs of energy being passed from the dead to the alive. I do not know why it happens, or how it happens but I can only tell that ancient and powerful magic has been revived." She looked up at he skies again and turned up her palms. The rain stuck them and created a thin, white mist. "It courses through those who know."

The other dryads exchanged looks and waited. They discussed this earlier but Fresia had held back one of the most important announcements. She had instructed them to wait for her niece.

"Today, I shall explain one of our most ancient duties. Aslan has made us to breathe life into the worlds he creates. He told our ancestors long ago that our power lies in our tendency to fall in love so fully, so easily. We give so much unconditionally. The tug to nurture and bring life comes from the purest of love. Our greatest joy is to see every blade of grass dance, feel every drop touch the earth and hear every heart beat......

For a long time, Aslan asked us to usher life into his lands. He created them and we loved his creations. When we showed them how to live, they ached with happiness. Then, they slowly forgot the meaning of his gift. Thus they languish painfully, waiting for their end."

Nerium listened and noticed the subtle changes around them as the rain withdrew reluctantly. The drops fell sporadically and the leaves stopped moving. They cried their crystal tears silently.

"Even so, all those creations aren't ungrateful.. They pine for love, for freedom from their existence as shells. However, the damage done by the ancestors cannot be undone." Fresia bowed her head as she paused. No one spoke.

"So, we let them be as they are." Nerium stated quietly. She narrowed her eyes and looked at her eldest aunt.

"We have no choice. Why this is so, I shall explain later. Now, however, there are other duties to attend." Fresia held her gaze impassively. _Righteous anger. So human, _she thought.

Deylaav closed her eyes again. "Tonight, our sister speaks of ancient magic. It is nothing but immense love, infinite adoration.... we bring forth this emotion in the oldest of our songs. Long ago, Zinnia, the first dryad, was heartbroken when her favorite flower died. She brought it back to life with this song. That flower became the fireflower-- and it still has the power to bring back those on the brink of death."

The dryads stood up and walked into the creek. The waters made no movement as the dryads whispered comforting words to the disturbed surface and stood as a closed group. They joined hands and raised to the sky. They started to sing......

_When you walk with me_

_I cannot love you more_

_Don't be afraid of yourself_

_When I hide you from this world_

_Like dreams that shade your eyes_

_My colors will paint your world_

_I want to steal you away_

_keep you forever _

_If life has other plans_

_I will wait till the moon wanes_

_When you walk with me_

_I cannot love you more_

_If you smile,Tomorrow laughs_

_When you come,Yesterday fades_

_There isn't anything i need_

_when you mark the horizon_

_No shadow will cross you_

_I will be your sun_

_The darkness will part_

_when i hold your hand_

_When you walk with me_

_I cannot love you more.._

Ethereal octaves were traversed by their soft, thin voices. The melody seemed to sheath the falling rain in a other worldly, forgotten plea to revive the earth, to return life to its own creatures. The song tapped an agonizing, painful side of love which the heart stashed away retrieved only for those precious. The dryads prayed that it reached for those lost, those invaluable and bring them back to a realm where unity occurred forever.

…_............................................................._

Zinnia took slow steps across soft floor of the riverbed and gazed, unfocused, at the end of it. There were tiny pebbles strewn across the entire stretch, which condensed closer to form small rocks. Her mother used to tell her about long ago when she as a child, used to play there. They used to play hide-n-seek.....

Her face was streaked and dirty. Light breeze blew, as if mocking her anger with peace. The dinner she had carried with her was long over as she searched tirelessly, endlessly for her brother. She couldn't go home and face her empty house, with reminders of his being scattered about. She decided to perish in her search. Her success would be in her achieving freedom. Freedom to not exist, freedom for new life. But she didn't have the will to go through life all over again.

Her mind was blank. She had reached the rocks. Stopping for a moment, she looked back. The rocks, being near the river bed, was much lower than the rest of the city and she could make out the many dying remnants of her city, of whatever she had gathered through life. It seemed to glow in the red light of the sky and fade away. The curse seemed to absorb everything away from the city, leaving her to watch it all.

The game of survival had come to an end. It had no winners or losers, but whoever lived past it, had to witness flashes life as it shimmered away. One could only watch.......

Suddenly tired, she sat behind one of the rocks. "Halo, Halo........No....Why did y-y—you...Where......." She touched the hard, cool surface of the rock, and turned her face to it. A fresh wave of tears threatened to surface again, and Zinnia leaned her head against the rock. No sobs came forth this time. Ironically, empty feelings welled up within her and and came out as hot ribbons, reminding her of----

Winds arose and rushed across the jagged outlines of every rock, dragging up the coarse, grainy soil. Zinnia opened her eyes as she felt the winds brush across her skin. She started to breathe heavily.....

_This can't be happening......this is …. is....._ "A storm??" Zinnia asked herself as she looked up at the sky. It was no longer red.

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Please please review..tell me what you think..all ideas, suggestions, and criticisms welcomed!!!!!


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